"I heard you two had fun on the shift you covered me for, so much fun that you guys almost got fired?" Amanda snickers as she leaves me for a moment to retrieve more cookies from the kitchen. A tray of chocolate chips in one hand and oatmeal raisin in the other now, she adds, "Thanks, by the way. I owe you one."

I take one tray and help reload the display case. "My pleasure."

Amanda smiles. "This isn't Chick-Fil-A. But that's good. Keep it up."

"Right."

"Anyway, I haven't seen Kota that... joyful, weird, what have you... since..." Her words come to a halt, her body rigid, until she sets the empty tray down onto the marble counter. Chocolate chip stains left over on the tray beckon me. "Never mind."

Now I am too curious to leave it alone. "Since what?"

It does not take any further convincing. "Since Heather. He liked her, and vice versa, but it didn't come close to working out."

"Oh."

"She used to work here, for like a week or two. Decided it -- and everyone who worked here -- was far beneath her."

"Sounds like a nice girl."

"Her looks more than made up for it. According to every guy here, anyway." Amanda shrugs. "A tall blonde with blue eyes, the typical beauty queen. You know."

"Oh," is once again all that I can respond.

"I'm happy she doesn't work here anymore," she goes on. "I'll be happier once he stops thinking of her. He finally seems to be starting."

I purse my lips, deeper in discomfort. Amanda seems to read this, and the conversation changes to this is how this machine works and this is how you make this, and so on. Eventually, I learn more about her life, she asks me about mine, and even makes a comment expressing that she would not have known that I was schooled at home because I seem so normal. It doesn't offend me. In fact, I carry it with pride.

The shift ends in the mid-afternoon. The remainder of the day is spent on household chores, completing homework for my online university courses, following Amanda on social media, learning she is friends with Heather -- online, at least -- and holding my breath as I click her face to open her profile. Just what I am looking for.

Indeed, Amanda was right. A Miss America face meets mine. As I stare at the tall, thin, curvy figure, golden straight hair falling to her knees, and piercing blue eyes before me, there is no way that I can see Dakota ever getting over this one. None.

I tell myself that it is okay, though. I'm there to make money to fund my future. A relationship -- even simply seeking a relationship could easily slow the whole mission down. With this in mind, I create an additional mission for myself, and that is to release any and all butterflies assigned to me by Dakota Campbell.